Arman Sangalang @The Whistler, Or, The Many Musings of A Jazz Disciple

Cover Photo: Arman Sangalang. The Whistler, 3/27/25. Photos by Dominic Guanzon

By Dominic Guanzon

Thursday, 3/27/25

What makes a disciple?

The heart of the definition lies in following an idea. It also implies they are an unyielding follower, particularly in the face of a great obstacle.

For instance, I consider myself a disciple of music photography because I still believe I’m going to get good photographs at The Whistler, despite knowing its deep red mood lighting will ensure I get the noisiest photos in existence since I cheaped-out on a crappy camera lens for my Nikon Z5.

But the word also conjures up a sort of monk-like aesthetic. A quiet, ever-faithful disciple that studies and practices their craft in the reserved fashion of a friar or a monk. If you swap the Bible for a Wayne Shorter omnibook, you might get Arman Sangalang. I don’t actually know if that’s the real Arman Sangalang since I talked to the dude for like, five minutes, but the vibe was very much that for the night.

Sangalang¹ is an up-and-comer that’s been up-and-going in Chicago for a few years now. The first artist from Calligram Records to not be one of its founders, he already has two records under his belt: the aforementioned debut, “Quartet,” and one with a group he founded called IRIS. In both instances, his sound matches the earthy disciple-chic.

Dave Miller (left, g) and Arman Sangalang (right, ts). The Whistler, 3/27/25.

Hearing him perform live for the first time struck me differently than what I expected, however. Dave Miller’s (g) use of loopers, and potentially other pedals I’m too normie to know about, added a whole new dimension to what can be heard on “Quartet”². It’s simultaneously jarring and right at home, particularly when listening to Sangalang play around, and through, that soundscape.

When listening to his recorded work, the work is grounded, placing the intramural aspect of the music in the foreground. You could even say it’s muted. His composition “Contemplation” can exemplify. That night, however, there was an increasing funk and freedom that again deviated from what I thought I’d be getting. It’s fun, but not in the cheeky way IRIS did on, say, their take of “On the Sunny Side of the Street.” It’s a subversion of my own making, but still, I guess that’s the power of reservation: When evolution comes around, by choice or otherwise, it feels like coming out of the gate swinging.

I know I’m dressing this all up like it’s profound, but it really just sounds like Sangalang is growing: in technicality, in musicality, and growing in the number of musician collaborations who have, just, the most-serious beards on the scene today. Seriously, his whole rhythm section had the thickest beards³. I know I was making the disciple analogy earlier, but maybe I should have made a wizard one.

I digress. For a young creative who’s already accomplished putting out an album, growth is a huge accomplishment. And it’s cool to see the gradual change of a musician, between the albums. Wherever this jazz disciple decides to go, I can’t wait to attend the church he winds up building.

Who tells crowds “sang-a-lang” like “sang a song,” but I have suspicions it’s pronounced far more Filipino.
Which features the same lineup as the night, except Ethan Philion tagging in for Matt Ulery.
Something I mentioned to bassist Ethan Philion at a later encounter at a recording studio, to his laughter.